


Outtake from Life Will Find a Way: Internal Weather

by JoCarthage



Series: Life Will Find Away + Extra Features and Outtakes [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoCarthage/pseuds/JoCarthage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is coming back, recovering from 70 years as the Winter Soldier. Bucky's been with him throughout the recovery, but has Steve pushed him too far away to repair their relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outtake from Life Will Find a Way: Internal Weather

**Author's Note:**

> There were a couple of scenes I wrote, and loved, but had to cut from Life Will Find A Way because they didn't match the tone of the fic or the timeline as it evolved. I'm posting those that hold together is one-shots. Enjoy!

Steve lay on the bed in the morning sunlight, turning his hand over in it. He knew Bucky was up and awake, could hear him moving around, but one of their carefully cultivated luxuries was not having a fixed wake-up time. They’d both had enough of it, and it served as an easy morning diagnostic for how able Steve was to break programming that particular day.

It was late and he couldn’t hear Zola’s voice screaming at him in his head. His mind was free, empty as rooms of a house between tenants, warm wood floors scratched but waxed. He felt his curtains flutter in the breeze and could see storms on the horizon, but he thought they might be heading out over the ocean. He turned his hand over in the golden light again, letting it get between his fingers, letting his eyes unfocus on the dust motes.

He rose to the click-clack of coffee cups, turning to the door and feeling the warm sun sluice down his back. He walked into the kitchen and he could tell Bucky was keeping his eyes down, and it seemed suddenly so empty, so dumb. He wanted him to look up, to smile. He wanted to be able to wrap his arms around his friend, bury his face in his hair, warm up that terrible metal arm. 

He could hardly see over all the barriers he thrown up these past few months, all of the calculated rejections and refusals. Bucky was more patient than he’d ever been, but Steve was suddenly filled with fear he’d vanquished something he’d just been waiting to accept.

“Bucky—“ he started. His voice cracked, his knuckles showing wrinkles as he squeezed the counter. Bucky stopped what he was doing, turned the stove off in the middle of frying eggs, and leaned his hip against the cabinet, not moving any closer, face carefully neutral. Steve could seem him flexing and unflexing his hand, tapping his thumb and fingers. Never could hide that tell.

“I just, this will take a while, you know?” Bucky’s face shattered, a sad smile surfacing and sinking again just as fast. His shoulders dropped and he turned to the stove, turning it back on, getting the eggs going again.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, voice still light.

Steve stepped forward and could see Bucky’s back tense, but he still kept it to him, letting him see he wasn’t seen as a threat.

“But, at the end of it, we can be like we were before? That’s what you want?” Bucky took his time to answer, moving the eggs around, as Steve watched his veins rise in his clenched hands.

Bucky moved equal portions of the eggs onto the flowered plates, pivoted to the fridge to pull out orange juice and pour two large glasses. He took one plate and handed the other to Steve, carrying the orange juice glasses in his arms. He set them on the little folding table, then looked up at Steve as he sat across from him.

“What I want is for you to get whole, to build a life you're proud of. I want that more than anything, Steve. What we were before—that was before superheroes and Gods, that was a skinny kid in Brooklyn and his terrified, fake-macho best friend. That was more than I am now, and less than you are. We can’t go back, and I for one wouldn’t want to.”  
  
Steve reached his hand cross the table and took Bucky’s metal hand, and Bucky let him, let him play with the fingers, breath stiff between his lips.

“But at the end of this, you might still, want,”

Bucky dropped his fork and reached across the tabled, tracing a skin-covered finger over Steve’s wrist, coming to the fragile skin at the veins, circling back to press against his ring finger.

“If this were heaven, yes Steve, every single day. If you wanted it, this instant. If you knew you would want it tomorrow, every day until you didn’t. I don’t have armor against you. I just can’t protect myself. I have to trust you to do it.”  


“Even when I don’t.”  
  
“Yeah, even then. That’s why this isn’t a perfect idea, but I couldn’t do something else. I couldn’t let you ever think I wasn’t here. If you,” and Bucky slid his fingertips up the side of Steve’s arm to grip his shoulder, “If you want it, want me, like that, I would. I want it.” He stared, eyes so clear, looking into Steve’s. Steve’s eyes dropped.

Bucky waited a moment and stood, chair scraping, picking up the plate and walking it back to the kitchen, where he cleaned it and set in the rack to dry.

“Want to go for a walk today? I’ve heard there’s a farmer’s market in Queens.”

Steve stood, walking over and putting his hand in the middle of Bucky’s back. 

“I am so far away from settled now, but in a few weeks, can we talk about this again? It, I need something to hold onto and that’s you and the SHIELD doctors and the team and who knows what, but, this is something I’ve never stopped wanting,” 

Bucky’s back collapsed at the last phrase, rounding under Steve’s hand and giving him the shape of his exposed backbone. He breathed in, breath catching, face averted from Steve’s.

“Yeah, Steve, yeah.” 

Then a quick breath through his teeth and Steve felt him start to turn. He didn’t back up, just let him turn in front of him, bodies not too far away. Steve could feel his skin start to tingle at the proximity, and this time, Let it soak in, like sunlight, like warmth.

He let his hand fall down to his side, then turned his head with a quick smile: 

“Let’s do it. Queens is a good enough trip to be worth heading out for, and we can get something for Sunday dinner.” Bucky nodded, and they parted to get ready for the day out. Bucky's mind wasn't clear, there were still clouds, but the light was spangling through.


End file.
